


a mad predicament

by cbstrike



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbstrike/pseuds/cbstrike
Summary: “Deep pockets, this.” he said of his coat, digging for one pocket and pulling out his cigarettes, three different lighters, and a tin of mints. “Carries all the essentials.” He dug around his other pocket as Robin laughed. Inside was his notepad, a pen, a packet of biscuits, and a condom.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	a mad predicament

When Robin parked the Land Rover in the parking lot of a vast shipping yard, Cormoran told her to stay put. Instead of arguing the point, she merely unbuckled herself and got out of the car as Cormoran yelled at her, already livid that she wasn’t planning on following instructions.

“I think I can take a scrawny sixteen year old, Strike!” she snapped back, already briskly walking through the tight alleys surrounded by shipping containers.

He used to enjoy it when she called him Strike, but now she only ever does when she was particularly cross with him and he resented it at that moment. Resented, too, her stubbornness even though she definitely can take a scrawny sixteen year old, and he would be no good in a foot chase.

They tailed a client’s teen son, who they recently found out got himself a job as a low-level runner for a drugs syndicate. Robin had a plan previously, that she was going to pretend to be asoccer mom looking to score some pills to take the edge off her mind-numbing life. But the meet up had been at some dark alley, and Cormoran was sure the teen boy’s cohorts will come out of the woodwork if they find a beautiful woman approaching for drugs.

Robin protested initially, but was glad to relent to her partner, the scene looking far too familiar to the worst night of her life for her liking.

Except Cormoran definitely doesn’t look like a soccer mom looking to score some pills. He had no plan, no backstory, and even the most obtuse cave dweller would’ve twigged he was law enforcement.

So, their client’s son scarpered in a beat-up sedan, and they tailed him, promising their client to bring their child in. It was unorthodox, but a scrawny, bullied, self-conscious sixteen year old neck-deep in a drug gang needed to literally be taken off the streets.

The sky was not yet dark that they need to bring out their flashlight, but Robin already had it out at the ready, the brisk winter afternoon rapidly turning dark.

The labyrinthine yard was impossible and imposing, but they both reckoned if the boy they were looking for opened one, they’d hear it creak. The whole place was eerie like the start of a scary movie where two superfluous wanderers get a feel for the horror house before being eaten by a monster.

If it were literally anyone else with him doing this, Cormoran would suggest to split up. Every single one of his subcontractors were trained for this kind of tactical search-and-extraction. Robin’s field expertise was covert operations, infiltration. She has good instincts, but this sort of thing is not something you learn by osmosis, not something you have natural aptitude for. This needs proper, formal training.

Cormoran’s mind was flying to thoughts of charging their client for a hefty hazard fee when Robin, who was ahead of him, suddenly broke into a run.

“Robin!” he whispered urgently after her, trying to limp after her best he could. “Fuck,” he muttered even the first blunt pressure against the end of his stump. He watched her head in dark beanie, strands of her gold hair falling from the bun inside.

If she was trained, she would know not to outrun a mark trying to get away. What she should’ve done was calculate turns to head him off. Cormoran has had experience with similar layouts, knowing that if Robin turned either direction, their client would’ve slowed down, thinking he’d lost her, and she would’ve been able to preempt him at the other end, Cormoran, not too far behind.

Robin lost track of the many turns the teen took, realising now how fit as she was, she was no match for a sixteen year old driven to getaway. There was a stitch in her side now, not sure how long she could keep up, the sky now dangerously growing darker. If she has to turn on her flashlight, that’ll be it. They’ll have to turn back and try again tomorrow.

She chanced a look over her shoulder, though knowing Cormoran wouldn’t have been able to keep up if she, with two legs, were barely keeping up the foot chase. She turned back forward and he disappeared. “Fuck.”

She took her phone from her pocket. Low signal, but maybe she could call Cormoran, see where he was.

She looked around her own surroundings, finding a clearing at the foot of a large crane.

Her phone wouldn’t even ring, the signal was too weak. She tried texting she was at the foot of the tractor. Sending failed.

She felt a little chill now, alone, unsure which direction the Land Rover was, even. Maybe if she got on the tractor, if she got a bit of height on her, she’d be able to spot the teen, or Cormoran, or her car, or get a signal. Anything.

“Fucker!” she heard a yell. Cormoran.

“Cormoran!” she called back, running to the direction of where she heard Cormoran, no longer caring if the boy they were tailing or any of his other druggie friends get spooked. She just wanted out of there.

“Robin! Robin! Get to the car!” she heard Cormoran’s voice echoing as though he was inside somewhere hollow, in one of the containers. _Shit_.

She ran, his voice so clear in her ear it worked as though beacon. Like she knew she was running closer to where he was.

She saw it, a container door was open. Knew for sure that’s where he was. Is he hurt? “Cormoran!”

She ran to the container, finding Cormoran on his stomach as though pulling himself towardsher, the side of his head trickling with blood, eyes wide with shock at her. “Robin, don’t—!”

But Robin felt a fierce push against her back, causing her to fall bodily on the floor. She was laboriously trying to push her now sore body off, but before she made any progress, everything went black.

“You okay?” Cormoran asked, laying his phone with the flashlight on the ground to give them some light.

“Yeah.” Robin panted, feeling like her back and rib will bruise from the push and the fall. She sat up, inspecting the scrapes on her forearms and palms and elbows, just managing to cushion the blow. They weren’t too bad, although they were red and she gently swiped dirt off her limbs.

“What happened to you?” Robin asked Cormoran who was now sat against the container wall, the side of his face bloody, missing his leg, and somehow also soaking. “How are you wet?”

“Fucker threw a pitcher of water at me, lemme see.” he said, taking one of her arms to check the scrapes.

“I’m fine.” she complained, twisting from his grip so she could then look at the gash on his temple. It looked shallow. “How’d you get that?”

“I also got pushed, and then he yanked my leg off and whacked me with it.”

Robin gasped. “No! Shit. Do you think he took it?” Robin asked, looking around the empty container as though expecting it was there with them.

“It’ll be above the container adjacent to this one. Saw him chuck it, heard it thud.”

Robin stood up and headed for the door, pushing it open. Nothing. She didn’t really think it’ll be open, but just in case the teen only wanted a head’s start, he might not have locked them in. He did, though.

“God, how are we getting out of here?” Robin asked, kicking at a wall that made a great racket.

“Andy knows where we are. He’ll call his Met contacts if he can’t get hold of either of us in the next hour.”

Robin looked at Cormoran, the front of his clothes wet, looking exhausted and dimly lit with only his phone flashlight on.

She sat next to him, handing him her flashlight. “Your battery will drain if you keep that on.”

Cormoran turned it off. Robin took out her own phone and shut it off completely.

“Why’d you do that?”

“We can turn it back on when yours dies.”

“Smart.”

She gave a small smile at that and then she sighs, “Cormoran, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I should’ve stayed in the car.”

“Yeah, well, I should’ve let you do the meetup like you planned, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up here. He was clearly alone in that alley.”

Robin, quite easily leaned her head against his shoulder. “I hate this case.”

Cormoran sniggered. “It’s a fucker, alright.”

He was just about to lean his cheek against her head when she suddenly lunged forward for the flashlight, shutting it off, bathing them in total darkness.

“We shouldn’t waste this, either.” she said of her flashlight. And then he was thrilled to feel her resume her position against his shoulder.

And so he leaned his head against hers and sighed.

“How will they find us, there’s hundreds of containers here?”

“Shouldn’t be too long if they send a team out. They’ll yell and we can yell back. If it’s just Vanessa and Andy doing it, we might have to live off the biscuits I have in my pocket.”

Robin laughed, it echoed against the shipping container and lightened their situation. “You brought snacks to a foot chase?”

“Deep pockets, this.” he said of his coat, digging for one pocket and pulling out his cigarettes, three different lighters, and a tin of mints. “Carries all the essentials.” He dug around for his other pocket as Robin laughed. Inside was his notepad, a pen, a packet of biscuits, and a condom.

He grabbed for the condom, shoving it back in his pocket, not addressing it at all, but Robin lifted her head off his shoulder and hugged her knees, trying to train her eyes to the darkness.

It was awhile before either of them spoke again.

“Is this the craziest thing that’s ever happened to you?” Robin asked.

Cormoran thought it was an odd question, remembering every crazy thing that’s ever happened to him, just in the last five years, just working alongside Robin.

“My office was sent a leg once.” he dead-panned. “An _actual_ leg.” he was playing up the incredibility of the story, making her giggle.

“Point taken.”

He wondered if maybe Robin was scared, looking at her silhouette, slowly taking clearer shape as his eyes settled into the darkness. She was very tightly hugging her legs, eyes glazed and blank. Cormoran thought of coaxing her to sit back next to him, thinking maybe putting his arms over her shoulder wouldn’t be _too_ inappropriate to offer his best mate.

Then he supposed distance from him was wise, his front fully wet from that dickhead teen throwing water at him, making him shiver with the cold. He pulled his shirt to give it distance from his skin, only plopping wetly back down, adding to the already drafty winter coldness in this metal box they were both stuck in.

Cormoran wasn’t too worried, thinking they’ll be out of there in a couple of hours. But if they end up spending the night, this box will turn into a refrigerator.

He shook of his coat, draping it over her back, snapping her from her stupor.

“What about you?”

He shrugged, clenching his jaw to fight through the shiver that was making teeth want to chatter. It was the Ted Nancarrow in him, he suspected, that just made him automatically offer up his coat to the closest woman if the situation is marginally too cold.

Robin wasn’t too worried, her eyes now used to the dark and seeing her surroundings more clearly now. It wouldn’t be long before they’re found, she was certain. She was, in fact, more worried about their client’s son and hoping the arsehole hadn’t actually run away with his druggie buddies and get himself into more, deeper danger.

She thought of the rare times she’d been stuck in an elevator. Once it was for thirty minutes where Matthew had been so fussy and stressed, she thought him over the top and unattractive.

If the container was marginally less cold, she’d be perfectly comfortable being alone with Cormoran.

She turned her head a fraction, cheek still resting on her knees, looking at his partner whose back was against the cold metal wall, gaze swiftly moving away from her. _I don’t mind_ , she thinks, ghost of sly smirk on her mouth. _I don’t mind it when it’s you._

She likes that he looks. Little signals that tell her he maybe likes the look of her. That, despite her very un-Charlotte-like features, he might find her attractive.

Then she sighed. Thinking about Charlotte bums her out because she inevitably remembers how Cormoran had told _her_ , Robin, that Charlotte was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Cormoran was so cold, he was looking almost longingly at his warm coat draped loosely on Robin’s back. He folded his arms across his chest, keeping his breathing even as to not cause Robin to unnecessarily fuss over him. He wished he could hug his knees to his body like she was doing, cursing his extra stones of fat that was currently doing fuck all to insulate him. His own training was land. Desert. Heat. Braving the cold and the elements, that was Navy.

Robin turned to Cormoran, alerted to the change in his breathing, finding his arms folded tight against his chest and his jaw clenching as though he was grinding his teeth.

“You okay?” she asked, even though she was already knee walking the few paces towards him, already removing his coat to drape it over him.

“C-cold.” he grunted, too shivery to insist for Robin to keep the coat. “B-blast t-teen.”

“Your clothes are wet, I think--I think you should take it off.” she suggested, his shirt was still translucent against his hairy torso, his trouser darker in the crotch and thigh from where the water drenched him, giving the illusion he had wet himself, but nothing about this was funny, Cormoran’s lips were turning white.

Cormoran only nodded, hissing as he had to unfurl his arms to unbutton his shirt. Robin held his coat up over his upper body, and even far too cold he wondered if she didn’t want to see him undressed or undressing in any way. But she had dropped his coat over his chest as soon as he’s peeled his sodden shirt off, only readying it so he only experiences the cold air against bare skin the shortest time possible. His coat immediately felt better, warmer, as though it soaked up some of Robin’s heat to give him some reprieve from the chill. It hadn’t been on her long at all, but already he could smell a whiff of Narciso clinging the fabric.

“Better?” Robin asked, hands rubbing up his arm. Her cheeks, even in darkness he could tell, was red. He wanted to press his face against hers, she looked so warm. But he contented himself with a nod.

“Okay.” she huffed and then gave him a smile, moving to sit next to him and lean against the stingingly cold wall of the metal container. “We probably shouldn’t lean against this. It’s too cold.”

“Everywhere is cold, Robin.”

Robin shimmied to give a fraction of distance between her back and the wall regardless, and then took Cormoran’s sodden shirt and laid it out on the floor.

“It’ll freeze like that.” he said sleepily, possibly from the hypothermia setting in.

“Yeah, it probably would.” she agreed, and then giggled a little but kept it laid out anyway, thinking if it’ll freeze, it might as well as a sheet than as a ball. “We can build a fire with your lighter and notepad.”

“It’ll turn this thing into an oven.” Cormoran pointed out. “I’d rather come out frozen meat than roast pork, thanks.”

Robin sighed, thinking that they might now be out of options for warmth. It wouldn’t be long now, she thought. And if Cormoran was joking, he was probably fine. She herself was cold, but nothing far off from enduring the brisk cool of the Land Rover’s air conditioner on long drives.

“You’ve had training,” said Robin, looking at Cormoran’s face who looked like he was about to fall asleep. “What do they say we do in these situations?”

“Hn,”

“Cormoran?” Robin asked, pulling herself to check on her partner who was breathing slowly, as though about to fall asleep. “Cormoran?” she asked, no chance of shivering now, anxiety making her feel hot.

He isn’t shivering, but now Robin thought that might be a bad thing, recalling some offhand remark somewhere that freezing to death is like falling asleep. “Cormoran!” she tried, breathing into her hands, pressing it to the side of his head. “Cormoran!”

_Oh god._

He needs heat.

She put a light hand to his thigh, feeling his trouser was still damp. She lifted his coat just to expose his waist. She knew it needed to come off. Knew, too, that the little information she knew about first aid for hypothermia, there was truth to skin-to-skin contact.

She unbuckled his belt, taking slow breaths to calm herself. It won’t do either of them any good if she lost it. They’ve only been here, what? An hour? An hour and a half? It can’t go that fast. He can’t go that fast… _don’t think about that_.

She peeled his trousers off, dragging him down as she tried to pull it from under his heavy body.

“Ugh,” he grunted as his head banged lightly against the metal steel wall when he was pulled down.

“Cormoran?” Robin called. “Say something.” she urged. He groaned again. Somehow she thought maybe groaning is good. “Can you stay awake?” she asked, sounding more matter of fact than what she felt. “For me?”

“Hmm…” Cormoran groaned again. “Rob—”

“Yeah, it’s me.” said Robin, pushing his heavy and sodden trousers away from him now, bodily lifting him off the wall to lay him on the floor. He was heavy, and cold, but she could feel him helping, feel him also moving his torso to help her position him.

She pulled off her beanie, putting it on his head, pulling it down past his ear to try and keep him warm there.

Without hesitation, her hands were on her jeans zip, pulling it off, hissing at the sudden cold against her bare legs. “God,” she uttered a complaint, slipping herself under Cormoran’s coat, too. She took a deep breath, as though bracing to dive into icy water, pulling her jumper off her body, draping herself over Cormoran and working to put his coat over them both.

It was large enough to cover them, Robin reaching an arm for her jumper to fashion it into a pillow for Cormoran.

She thinks she could feel his heart beating, his wide and bare and hairy chest pressed against her own, her nude and serviceable bra the only barrier against intimate skin. She rubbed her warm hands all over his body, wondering if the rubbing was doing anything at all.

“You’re gonna be alright,” she tells him, almost demanding. Thinking that people, that men— that Strike in particular—were made of stronger life stuff to go gently into a cold night. _Where are they?_ she allowed her mind to fret, to call, to perhaps pray for help to arrive. She hoped she was warm enough, warming him enough. She herself only felt cold in the tips of her fingers that would poke out from under his coat, the rest of her aflame with worry and dread and some kinetic energy to will to produce heat for them both.

She pressed her cheek against his, reassured by his warm breath against her bare shoulder.

She felt his arm squirming, sandwiched between their bare abdomens pressed against each other. She heaves off a little and he’s wrapping his arms around himself, starting to shiver again. He’s getting better, she thinks. Shivering is better. Shivering is generating his own heat.

“R-rob-in,” he says, teeth chattering and she was so relieved she could weep.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

But that was all he said.

“Robin. Robin.”

Robin woke up with a gasp, finding to her horror that she was still in the cold metal box of nightmares. She pulled herself up, realising she had somehow slid off Cormoran, and was now against his side, cradled in his arm.

She looked up at his face, intense with worry, but awake. His grip on her shoulder was strong, pressing her against him.

“You ok—?” he started, but she had cut him off, searing her lips against his. “Unh,” he groaned with surprise, before melting as though thawing just from this. Just from the heat of this first kiss.

The sounds of their mouths echoed in their tiny box, but it was helping, Cormoran thought, pulling Robin tighter against him, his other hand wrapping around the small of her back, resting against bare skin. Her face was so warm, her body was so warm. Soft, too, but most importantly warm. Her hands were warm, rubbing against whichever skin of him she could reach, not only to generate heat but also to caress.

They were panting when they finally separated, looking into each other’s faces, mirroring confusion and relief and intensity. What a mad predicament. What a mad beginning.

She pressed a warm palm against his cheek and he closed his eyes to the sensation of it.

Robin pulled herself up to wrap her arms tight around his neck, and she felt him wrap his own arms around her back and she was so glad he seemed alright, sturdily, certainly in her arms.

She was suddenly back to kissing all over his face, and then frantically his mouth again as though she won’t ever get enough. Brain free of all thought but the precise second she is living, just his strong and thick arms around her, just the soft press of his body against hers, just his soft but firm mouth. Awake. Alive. Alright. Here. Hers.

The first sign of her shivering, he grabbed for her jeans and handed it to her. “You’re cold.”

“But—”

“I’m fine now,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You can put your clothes back on.”

Robin shimmied back into her jeans from under Cormoran’s coat, and then they sad back up as she pulled her jumper back on. Cormoran pulled his coat on the right way, still just in boxers and socks underneath, but the coat was shielding against the cold of the shipping container’s metal wall, Robin leaning against him, sufficiently warming him up.

He wrapped his arms around her as they waited, whispering in her ear of his plans when they got the bloody fuck out of there, starting with suing the living shit out of their client for this ordeal.

“Then I’ll use the settlement to take you someplace hot,” he promised her. She giggled, shaking her head, feeling as though they were living an entire lifetime in this god forsaken box. They’d been just friends when they started, she thought she’d lose him not too long ago, and now she was leaning against his soft torso, fingers entwined like lovers, Cormoran nipping at her earlobe.

They were there for near seven hours, the shipping yard far more vast than either of them had thought. It took a helicopter with search lights on to find Cormoran’s leg on top of a container, which inevitably led them to finally find the two detectives.

Vanessa was in near tears when she got to Robin, and they would later find out that the gang of teen thugs they thought were low-level were actually far more serious than they had any idea of, with the gang’s modus operandi luring people they thought were their enemies into the shipping yard to purposely trap them inside containers.

“So that’s why he had a pitcher on hand.” Cormoran said when Vanessa visited him at hospital the next day. “I had wondered.”

“Yeah.” said Vanessa solemnly. “They douse their victims with water, knowing that’ll speed up the hypothermia. It’s awful.”

They also found out that the Met was already on sight when Andy called Vanessa, their client’s son turning himself in out of remorse and worry he had doomed two people inside a shipping container he couldn’t find again. He was new to the seedy world of London juvenile criminality, luring victims to their death was supposed to be his initiation.

“That’ll be a mess,” Cormoran declared unnecessarily once Vanessa left his hospital room. Robin stood up from the armchair by the bed, hopping on the gurney next to him. He snaked his arm around her waist, kissing her shoulder. “The press will be all over us.”

Robin sighed, taking his hand and entwining it with hers. “They’ll stake out Denmark Street _and_ my flat.” she lamented nonetheless.

“What should we do?” Cormoran asked, kissing up her neck. Her mouth was twisting up to a smile.

She caressed his cheek as he rested his chin on her shoulder. She could sense his pout, put off by yet another impending media circus. But she smiled, pulling her head away so they could look at each other.

“Didn’t you mention taking me someplace hot?”

**Author's Note:**

> i set out to write smut but it got a little too serious lol.


End file.
